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JUST A RIMEY FEW 



JUST A RIMEY FEW 



BY 

JAY G. VOSS 



THE DAVID GIBSON CO. 

CLEVELAND 

1914 



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Copyright, 1914 
by The David Gibson Co. 



NOV 25 (914 



To the CKdemory of my T>ear CM.other 

to whom I am indebted for whatever ability 

I may possess as a writer of verse. 

She possessed the love of poetry to the 

fullest extent and wrote many verses 

for her own amusement. 



><S 



^ 



INTRODUCTION 



I have known Jay Voss for many years — so 
many that I cannot remember when I did not 
know him. 

His family and my family were neighbors in 
the Hoosier capital when it was just a town; 
when the term neighbor carried more meaning 
than mere proximity-dwelling. 

His father and my father were active in in- 
dustrial and civic life when Indiana was under- 
going the major processes to the making of its 
present prosperity and its place in the world's art 
and letters. 

All through these many years I have known 
Jay Voss as a many-sided man, — as a good 
companion, as a raconteur, as a showman: a 
traveler, a business man, a farmer, and even as a 
writer on economics. 

In a many-sided man we are apt to miss one 
side; — sometimes two sides. 

Years rolled on and our paths diverged. It 
was disposed that my field of endeavor be that of 



Introduction 

a publisher in a city many miles away from 
Indianapolis, my old home. 

But among many old friends the memories of 
a few have naturally remained clear and distinct, 
and none more so than those of Jay Voss; for his 
unique viewpoint, his faculty of picturesque ex- 
pression, and those qualities of the heart that 
are not only the structure but the adornments 
of the Hoosier character. 

Within the past few years I have seen verses 
run as reprint on the editorial pages of many 
newspapers. Some of the same verses appeared 
in different newspapers, and they were evidently 
newspaper waifs. After the dash following the 
last line of these was the name — Jay G. Voss. 

Was this my old Hoosier friend.'' Had he 
developed, or had I discovered another of his 
many sides? 

One day within the past year our paths con- 
verged, on a street in Indianapolis; and many a 
good thing has come out of a chance street 
meeting. 

We went to his home for an "Old Settlers' 
Meeting," as he called it. He aired his opinions, 
old and new, and in the same old picturesque 



Introduction 

way; but they were softer, more gentle, as the 
result of mellow maturity. 

He reviewed the intervening years, and he read 
to me many verses that he had written. Among 
them were the newspaper waifs; their author and 
my old friend were one and the same. 

I gathered all he had written and took them to 
Cleveland for publication by my. concern, and 
the vision and effort of one more Hoosier now 
appears between covers. 

I have often been asked why so many writers 
come from Indiana. 

There are two reasons as I have discerned 
them. The first is that pioneer people were 
forced on their own resources for amusement and 
diversion. In our congested civilization of to- 
day people are alike; they become so by associa- 
tion with each other, even in their general 
amusements and diversions. 

The open sky, the hills, the trees; the sounds of 
the wind through the forest; the cry of the owls 
by night — pioneer life amid virgin nature — 
stimulated imaginations and visions. Before the 
fireside and from its glow and warmth came 
human fancies in story and song. 



Introduction 

While few if any of these fancies were recorded 
for posterity, yet their spirit, the faculty to 
create them, does not die in one, or two, or even 
three generations; it is an inborn spark that can 
be fanned to flame at will, and even in a high 
civilization, with all its lettered traditions. 

Then the other reason is that some Hoosier 
wrote a book at some time or other; he found 
a publisher, and it sold. Others, his neighbors, 
looked at his success, and some of them said: 
"If he can do it, I can, too!" 

All of them did not do it, but out of all came a 
few successes on the law of averages; enough to 
give the state its reputation for literary produc- 
tion. 

Somehow, whenever I think of those two 
reasons, particularly now that I know another 
to his many sides, I always think of Jay Voss as 
typifying them. 

David Gibson. 
Cleveland, Ohio, 
October 6, 1914. 



CONTENTS 



PAGE 



Secret Dreams of Her 13 

Visitation of the Humming Bird 16 

Industrious Bill m 

If I Were the Sun 24 

Contentment Attempted 26 

Thoughtful Thoughts 27 

Lovers Young and Old 29 

Triumphal 32 

Confusion of Ideas .... ^4. 

The Light To-dav ^ 7 

The Hoosier Poet .... ^g 

Advent of Spring ai 

The River's Destination a a 

The Planet Venus 46 

My Bygone Fishing Place 4.8 

A Thrifty Familv 50 

Me and My Sister 52 

The Parade 5 r 

Our New Baby 60 

Me and Billie and Uncle Josh 63 

We All Made Up ' * 5^ 

Darling Little Svi^eetheart 73 

Why Santa Came to Our House 76 

A Letter to Santa Claus .... 78 

9 



Contents 

An Expert Driver 80 

The Fly and Mosquito ...... 82 

The Phonograph . . . . . . .84 

I Really Meant It — When I Wrote It ... 86 

To— (I Won't Tell Who) 87 

An Accepted Invitation 88 

Were I "Passed Up" 89 

Christmas Card 90 

Sent with a Christmas Veil . . . . .9' 

Holy Me and Sinner Thou ...... 92 

Birthday . . . . . . . , .93 

The Critic ......... 94 

Real Love . . . . . . . . .95 

My Choice 96 

Truth .97 

To my Friend, George B. Gaston . . . .98 



All that's in these riming lines 
I've writ 'twixt business hours at times, 
And should I write a bunch of iillin', 
To read it, you might be unwillin'. 



JUST A RIMEY FEW 



Secret Dreams of Her 

I have heartaches in secret, 

For a maiden in my mind, 
And in memory I sit musing. 

With all thoughts to her incHned; 
I love to sit in revery. 

Though I'll never see her more, 
And my thoughts they move reversely 

To the promised golden shore. 

Oh! the sparkle of her laughter 

And the gleeful winning way. 
When she used to come to meet me, 

With some gladsome thing to say. 
Then we hunted four-leaf clovers 

And chatted in the swing. 
And she gave me her opinion 

Of every little thing. 



13 



Secret Dreams oj Her 

My heart calls her in madness, 

From an internal bleeding wound, 
And it seems I hear the tripping 

Of her feet upon the ground; 
But Oh ! what joyful feelings, 

Sometimes that o'er me creep. 
When I dream she has not left me 

But only gone to sleep. 

When I peer into the water. 

Of a crystal flowing stream, 
Her figure rises slowly 

From the vapor, it does seem. 
And I see her fl.owing tresses 

And rosy dimpled cheeks. 
When Lo! her Phantom figure 

In vapor from me creeps. 

Sometimes the thought o'ertakes me, 

That she is not far away, 
But only gone to tempt me, 

And she may return some day. 
In sleep I meet an angel. 

That comes to me in tears 
And assures me she's in heaven, 

And to banish all my fears. 



Secret Dreams of Her 

Then as I shake and tremble, 

I beg for just one word; 
Oh! could I see her image, 

I trust Is not absurd, 
Then the angel lifts me gently 

And we sail through mystic skies. 
And when I am impatient, 

It points where Heaven lies. 

We seem to be now floating 

Along the milky way. 
And the angel me encourages, 

In such a friendly way; 
The stars are shining brightly 

And I see a golden plain, 
And I call the angel gladly for speed 

In tears that rain. 

And as our pace is quickened. 

And we're rushing madly on. 
The vision keeps receding. 

And from our view is gone. 
Then when I wake in fever 

And an ecstasy of fear, 
My heart beats fast in sadness. 

And I've banished all good cheer. 



Visitation of the Humming Bird 

While sitting in the garden, 

In quiet meditation, 
I saw a darling humming-bird. 

In motions of flirtation. 
It paused before the amaranth 

With grace and perfect ease, 
And humming words seemed coming 

From out the perfumed breeze. 

"I've been to see the lily, 

The tulip and the rose; 
Near the dearest violets 

I've stood in graceful pose; 
I flutter through the garden 

In joyous, mirthful glee, 
And stop a single moment 

Each pretty flower to see. 



i6 



Visitation of the Humming-Bird 

"The greenest climbing ivy 

I've seen upon the hills, 
And played among the petals 

Of the charming daffodils. 
I quaff the fragrant odor 

Of the sweetest pea that grows, 
And linger 'round the clover 

That everybody knows. 

"The lily-of-the-valley. 

With fragrant little bells, 
I visit just a moment 

And sip from out her cells. 
Many pleasant moments 

I spend among the trees. 
And sniff the fragrant blossoms 

Floating on the breeze. 

"I have a secret word 

With charming black-eyed Susan. 
And catch the four-o'clocks 

In sunny days a snoozin'. 
I love to smell the breath 

Of hyacinths and asters. 
And kiss the goldenrod 

In many quiet pastures. 



Visitation of the Humming-Bird 

"I play upon the trumpets 

As they creep along the wall, 
And dart among the branches 

Of fluffy white snowball. 
I hover 'round the tuberose, 

And breathe the fragrant air 
With honeysuckle laden, 

For which I dearly care. 

"The saucy Johnny-jump-up 

And the yellow dandelion 
Are given but a moment 

Of my very precious time. 
I know the colored pansies. 

And daisies quite serene. 
With cunning little faces 

Among the leaves so green. 

"The dainty odor'd lilac, 

The brittle touch-me-not. 
Are down in yonder corner 

With the forget-me-not. 
The fragrance of carnations 

I drink by yonder rock, 
And rest my weary wings 

On dear old hoUvhock." 



Industrious Bill 

Wurk an' me wus nuver friends, 
I'd ruther act the clown 

Fur it's a thing thut nuver ends 
Either in nur out o' town. 

I don't mind a country walk 
When I go huntin' er hshin', 

Fur I kin smoke an' sleep an' talk, 
An' hur the birds a singin'. 

I jist waller in the grass 
An' peer up in the trees. 

An' lissen to the blue jays' fuss 
An' watch them wurkin' bees. 

T'uther night wus on the river 

Floatin' on a raft. 
An' the stars jist same as ever 

Wus shinin' fore an' aft; 



19 



Industrious Bill 

I wus gazin' an' a lookin', 

An' a wonderin' what they're fur? 
An' wus dozin' an' a thinkin' 

They should have a job fur shur; 

I'd turn one into a garden 

Fur raisin' veg'tu'buls an' sich, 

Fur I nuver did like hoe'n' 

'Cause it gives my arms the twitch. 

If a feller wants to marry 

I'd have one to raise a house, 

Jist as comf'tu'bul an' airy 
To the likin's of his spouse; 

I'd sot one to makin' dresses 
Thut would suit a purty gal, 

An' I'd unjoy her currusses 

With her friend an' my old pal. 

I'd have a nuther fetch coal, 

An' wood around to me, 
Fur it's agin' my heart an' soul 

To split wood an' tote, you see. 



22 



Industrious Bill 

I'd turn one unto a grocery, 
Thut I'd unly have to ast 

Fur food, includin' poultry 
An' milk an' apple sass. 

I'd have one bring 'round to me 
A huntin' suit an' boots, 

Jist as fine as fine could be. 

An' some fishin' truck tu boots. 

I'd turn this world into a garden 
Of trees an' flowers an' streams. 

Where I'd hunt an' go boat ridin'. 
An' unjoy my fishin' dreams. 



23 



If I Were the Sun 



If I were the powerful sun 

I'd change the program a bit, 
And have things differently run 
Wherever my brilliancy hit. 

I'd melt all the polar ice, 
And float it away in the air 

To the desert lands in a trice, 

Relieving the famine that's there. 

I'd divide my time more evenly 
And come nearer the polar folks, 

And shine quite calm and serenely 
On the adjoining equator folks. 

I'd grow shade in the desert land, 
Where the birds could nest and sing, 

Transforming the sun parched sand 
To a green and beautiful thing. 



24 



// / JVere the Sun 

While encircling the earth, I'd be careful 

In each of my daily trips, 
They would not be hungry and tearful 

In such wide and numerous strips. 

I'd see that he who is willing 

To raise his daily bread, 
Should not lack for a trifling shilling 

Nor a place to lay his head. 

No more would it be a misfortune 

To be born in a certain spot, 
I'd grow each an equal proportion, 

And dispel the cold and the hot. 

I'd shine o're the rugged mountains, 
And melt all the snow so fast 

It would rain down the sides like fountains 
And grow an abundance of grass. 

The sultry, disease ridden tropic 
I'd transform to a healthful land, 

And disease would not be the topic 
Of a poverty stricken band. 



2^ 



Co?ite?it7?ient Attempted 

My ideal life — at this time 

Is a bungalow on a wooded knoll, 

In easy reach of an electric line 

On a winding stream with a fishing hole. 

An airy porch, all screened around, 
A lounging couch and many books, 

A den where I'd be often found. 

With rugs and pictures to help the looks. 

My favorite dog to lay at my feet, 

As I gaze in the glowing log fire-place. 

Away from the wind, and snow and sleet 

With songs and music and her charming grace. 

With only her friends and mine to greet, 
To the world I'd be a will-o'-the-wisp, 

If away from a busy commercial street. 
Could I but end mv days like this. 



-6 



Thoughtful Thoughts 

When we think of hfe at present, 
And the 3^ears that yet may come, 

Then we wonder why unpleasant 
We should be to any one. 

Let us not imagine pleasure, 
Be in actions real and true, 

Then we'll store up future treasure, 
That we'll use our whole life through. 

If we could extend but favors, 

And be true to our belief. 
We'd enjoy friends and neighbors, 

And do much to lessen grief. 

When life's autumn leaves are falling, 
And we feel the frost of years, 

We fancy bells are tolling. 

And the sound grates on our ears. 



Thoughtful Thoughts 

'Tis a pleasant retrospection, 

Of the days which we have known, 

That there's no sad recollection 
Of bad seed which we have sown. 

In the trough of life we flounder, 
With great billows on each side, 

And from conscience should not wander 
But be true to self and pride. 

Why be greedy, selfish, grasping, 
When so soon we're swallowed up, 

And we face the everlasting 
With a full or empty cup. 



28 



Lovers Young and Old 

The wintry snow, all fleecy and white, 

Was shining so bright, in the pale moonlight. 

The stars, were winking and Winking above, 
Placed in the Heavens by a God of Love. 

Joyous laughter Alls the crystal air. 

As young sweethearts trip down the stair. 

To a merry crowd in a great big sleigh. 
In a moment more they're on their way. 

As the sleigh-bells rang a merry chime 
They all were having a glorious time. 

They left Pa gazing in the old fire-place, 
In fancy, he saw A^lamma's young face. 

They were sleighing 'neath the same moonbeams. 
Stars were laughing at their sweet dreams. 

29 



Lovers Young and Old 

They cuddled down beneath the robe, 
As the big sleigh creaked along the road. 

Dreaming of the day not far ahead, 
When they'd be old enough to wed. 

The day dreamed of was coming soon. 
And near the end of next full moon. 

Ma was made the bride of Pa, 

At as pretty a wedding as you ever saw. 

They lived so happy for many a year. 
With scarcely a sorrow or even a tear. 

Until at last the horrid death. 
Stole from Ma her last life breath. 

And now Pa dreams of the life to come, 
Of her sweet image so tender and young. 

Will it be merry as the tinkling bell. 

And filled with happiness, can anyone tell.^ 

And the lovers, be lovers at the parting day, 
When death steals either one away? 



30 



Lovers Youfig and Old 

Shall their tread through life be pierced by a thorn, 
Or sweet loving kisses tlie last parting morn? 

Will he cherish and love, Pa's darling girl, 
As long as the road of life they whirl? 

And fondle and kiss a sweet baby girl, 
Romp, play and twist a long golden curl? 

Will the baby cause his heart to beat. 
When he hears the patter of her tiny feet? 

Will she twine her arms around his neck, 
Saying: "Dear Papa, I 'spect 

I loves my darling good Papa, 

As much as Ma loves my Grandpa?" 



31 



Triumphal 

Now that the Isthmus is in twain, 
And the cut has filled with water, 

The land that's always idly lain 
Has become a world-wide matter. 

This mighty work so well begun, 

This engineering climax, 
The feat of feats, beneath the sun, 

That brawn and brain so tax. 

Soon the Asiatic ships will turn 
And eastward plow the oceans. 

And European ships then turn 
To ports to suit their notions. 

From what oceans or what seas 
There unfurled to greet them 

Proudly floating on the breeze. 

Waves our flag, — a monarch's diadem, 



32 



Triumphal 

I pray God — speed the day 

That universal peace may come, 

And in an arbitrating way 
Our differences overcome. 

Triumphant bells we now have rang, 
That through the world vibrate. 

I trust they ne'er will boomerang 
And of our blood partake. 



33 



Confusion of Idt 



eas 



All nations jog on earth apart 

In peace, in joy, in sorrow, 
Each one according to the start. 

And their ideas of the morrow, 
Each one is sure that they do know^ 

Just where the other errors. 
And if they had the chance to show. 

They'd save them many terrors. 

The Mormon is quite sure he knows 

That Solomon was quite right, 
He surely was the king of beaus 

And married all in sight. 
The Tibet man does not object 

When his wife another marries, 
And never says, it is neglect 

When alone with him she tarries. 



34 



Confusion of Ideas 

Brahma sprang from an egg of gold, 

All Brahmans are quite sure, 
So often they've the story told. 

It must for long endure. 
The lower half of this shell, 

This dear old earth did make, 
The upper half, they do us tell. 

Formed the Heavens for their sake. 

One-third the humans of this earth. 

To Buddah bend the knee, 
And never speak of Him in mirth, 

But praise Him reverently. 
That souls transmigration surely be 

They've never had a doubt. 
One of the things they plainly see 

And tell us all about. 

The one and only truth is told 

The Mohammedan is sure. 
The Koran does to him unfold 

The laws so true and pure, 
That Mohammed, God's apostle be 

Many nations think they know, 
And surely through the azure see 

Good seed his teachings sow. 



3S 



Confusion of Ideas 

Old Sol has posed for many tribes 

As God, I know not why, 
Although he's given many jibes, 

He still remains on high. 
He smiles and frowns and glares, 

As we a speck float by. 
And on our tangled theories stares, 

As we howl and screech and cry. 

Christians have it all worked out 

And know all others wrong. 
They have them whipped within and out 

In prose, in verse and song. 
Streets of gold in Heaven above, 

Old Mephistopheles below. 
We're told in words of love. 

We reap just what we sow. 

When Gabriel blows his trumpet blast. 

And we are summoned to the throne. 
The final day has come at last. 

We've reached the happy home, 
But oh, ye mixture creeds, beliefs, 

Must all then go below. 
But those who stand on lucky reefs 

And say: "I told you so." 

36 



The Light To-day 

I broke my slumber at early dawn to-day, 
To see the golden orb in tinted views, 

And catch the first reluming ray 
Unfolding scenic hues. 

The radiant rays, the night from day divide, 

Starting all before them moving, 
And the tinseled beams of the moon subside 

As the light is night removing. 

Pushing on as though commanding, '"wake! 

Unto your labors go! 
That you, may be allowed to take 

Of that which I may grow." 

The dew which falls in the hours of night, 

In a sparkling mist of pearl. 
Retreats from the charging rays of light, 

In a whirling, spangled twirl. 



37 



The Light To-day 

Stars are fading In the firmament blue, 

And the rustUng leaves and the rippling rill, 

As the fiery horizon comes plainer to view, 
Secretly murmur: '"Tis morning, God's will." 

The Hand that turns us to the light, 

Will not bring back this day. 
But turn us on with wonderous might 

To each recurring day. 

Be unlike the blinking owls ! 

That hide from Ught of day, 
And hoot, in nightly prowls, 

But strive for higher light, to-day! 

Embrace the chances of the hour; 

Let not this day be lost! 
Love should be our guiding power, 

To-day may ne'er be crossed. 

The radiating glory of the solar beam, 

Should be a beacon light. 
To-day is not the day to dream! 

There may be clouds ere night. 



38 



The Hoosier Poet 

This poem zvas written for the Indianapolis Press for Riley Day, 

a das set aside in Indiana for honoring James Whitcomb 

Riley in the Public Schools. 

The soldier and the sailor 

Won for our state a name, 
And helped to place Old Glory 

On the pinnacle of fame. 
But in the many battles, 

No sword or gun has won 
The tender, loving hearts of man. 

As our poetic son. 

He speaks of all the lilies. 

The pansy and the rose, 
And finds a line of poetry 

In every flower that grows. 
The largest and the smallest bird. 

The sweetest singing creature, 
Are each and every one described 

In rime and rhvthmic metre. 



Z9 



The Hoosier Poet 

The Hoosier in his dialect, 

The farmer at the plow, 
The grass that's in the meadow, 

The hay that's in the mow; 
The pumpkin and the fodder. 

The frost that touches them. 
And all within the barn-yard. 

Are handled by his pen. 

His loving, childish sympathies 

Do moisten all our eyes, 
As he tells of all their troubles 

'Twixt earth and yonder skies. 
Their ills and tearful sorrows 

Are spoken of in verse, 
Then in joyous rapture 

He fills our hearts with mirth. 

We are proud that he's a Hoosier, 

And in this land of ours. 
Has given to humanity 

So many pleasant hours. 
When his days are over 

His virtues will be told, 
And his name live on forever — 

Preserved as precious gold. 

40 



Advent of Spring 

The warm south wind came along with a bound 
Melting the ice and the snow all around; 
The joyful song of sweet birds in the trees 
Said they'd come along with the warm, gentle 
breeze. 

From 'way up above, in the soft blue sky 
Came the honk of the goose as he travelled by; 
The quack of the duck was plainly heard 
As the blue-jay fussed with another bird. 

Cock Robin came along with the Spring 
And sang his song with a merry ring. 
Blackbirds chirped with a perfect din 
In the same old roost so long lived in. 



41 



Advent of Spring 

The frogs came out and joined the throng, 
And tried to drown the spring birds' song. 
The more they clattered and rattled their throats 
The greater the number of sweet bird notes. 

The rain-crow croaked and squawked for rain 
'Till the weather man tired of the refrain, 
And sent a shower of silver drops 
To stop his mouth and start the crops. 

The dreary days of winter had past, 
And the glorious Spring was here at last. 
While all around 'tw^as plainly seen 
That everything was turning green. 

The lazy hens so long laid off 
Were nesting now in the hay-loft; 
The cows were having a glorious time 
Chewing the grass that tastes so fine. 

The bumble-bee flew around with a whirr, 
And the honey-bee worked with a whizzing purr, 
For Spring had turned the whole bunch out 
And they were flying and buzzing about. 



Advent of Spring 

The plow was turning the meadow sod, 
And the farmer sang as along he trod. 
From all about came a thousand notes 
From as many cheerful, welcoming throats. 

Old Sol mixed in with a warm, glad smile 
For his rays had travelled for many a mile, 
From 'way down South he had risen 
And turned us out of our winter prison. 



43 



The River s Destination 

Where goeth the river when it reaches the sky, 
As it murmurs and gurgles so wearily by? 
Does it fall in the moon as it raises its face, 
Or drop in the sun in about the same place? 

Does it mix in the clouds, float back o'er the 

earth, 
From whence it came sparkling and laughing 

with mirth? 
Does it leap over to Mercury, Venus or Mars, 
Or get tangled up with other big stars? 

The man in the moon would drink it all up, 
And the heat of the sun take it in at a sup, 
The canals upon Mars would hold it to float 
Her mailed God of War in a great golden boat. 



44 



The River s Destination 

The sweet queen of Venus would bathe in its spray, 
And Mercury would need it to drive heat away, 
Saturn would float it around on her rings, 
And Jupiter use it for many great things. 



45 



The Planet // 



enus 



Tell me who's on yonder planet 

As it sparkles in the sky? 
And who pushes or who pulls it 

As it travels swiftly by? 
Has it rivers, has it oceans? 

Has it monarch or a queen? 
That comply with all our notions 

Of the things we've never seen. 

Have they mountains, hills and valleys 

Waving fields of grain and grass? 
Churches, houses, streets and alleys 

Built of brick and stone and glass? 
Have they tombs and dismal hearses, 

Stealing from them all that's dear? 
Do they teach in prose or verses 

Things that's good or bad to hear? 



4t^ 



The Planet Fenus 

Do they strive for fame and fortune, 

And when gained it have to die? 
Do they suffer pain and torture, 

And in death forever lie ? 
Are their tears for loved ones flowing, 

Who've passed o'er the sands of time ? 
And to the great unknown are going. 

Without choosing place or time? 

Were they born without their asking, 

With great passions to control? 
Stumbling through each day, as passing, 

Through this life upon parole? 
Have their talents been divided, 

In a scale of equal trust? 
And their dividends of life decided 

In a manner fair and just? 



47 



My Bygone Fishing Place 

As I sit beside the river, 

And its waters smile at me, 
I wonder could it ever 

Again return to me? 
Then it murmurs and it gurgles 

As o'er the rocks it glides, 
And plays upon the ripples 

As though from me it hides. 

I'm sure I hear the voices 

From out the whirling mass, 
Mixed in with rippling noises 

Of many kinds and class. 
Of fairies sweet and dainty 

As they hide behind the rock, 
Calling out to me so faintly, 

As at my heart they knock. 



48 



My Bygone Fishing Place 

Then the music of the Avoodland 

Comes from out the sycamore, 
As the sweetest singing bird band 

Serenades me evermore. 
And I love to sit and listen 

To the band without a string, 
While the blinking owls are kissin' 

Up in a grape-vine swing. 

And a chipmunk's at me peepin' 

As it plays along a rail, 
A jay-bird's at me screechin' 

Near a squirrel with bushy tail. 
Then I hear the coo-love-making 

Of a little turtle-dove, 
On a slender limb that's shaking 

As I peer at them above. 

Then I sit so quiet thinking 

Of the days when I was young. 
When in the same place fishing 

I heard the same songs sung. 
And now I feel much younger. 

As in vision here in May, 
They've returned in rain and thunder 

To recall the bygone day. 

49 



A Thrifty Family 

I have the bunch of pigs, 
Sister has the chickens, 

John and Jim have bran-new rigs, 
So Pa has real poor pickin's. 

Ma has a swell new suit, 

That cost her like the dickens, 

Baby's cab looks awful cute — 
So Pa has real poor pickin's. 

Flossie looks the floosy flufttes, 
Tangoing with Biggens, 

And shaking gaudy ruffles. 
So Pa has real poor pickin's. 

Mary plays a doleful tune, 
I think composed by Dickens, 

The piano bill comes full too soon, 
So Pa has real poor pickin's. 



50 



A Thrifty Family 

Jim wears cuffs upon his pants, 
A mane grows from his thinkin's, 

He swells around in posing slants — 
So Pa has real poor pickin's. 

To work is such a striving task, 
From it our pace oft quickens, 

For money we would rather ask. 
So Pa has real poor pickin's. 



51 



Me and My Sister 

When I was 'ist a 'ittle lad 

Dey sometimes said dat I was bad. 

But 'ittle Mary, she an' me, 

Was 'ist as dood as we could be. 

Sometimes when we was feelin' fine 
We'd run so far in de sunshine 
Huntin' for four-clover leaves, 
An' sometimes playin' in de sheaves. 

We'd chase de butterflies an' bees. 
Wade in de pond most to our knees, 
Det pisened by de vines on rails. 
An' grab at tadpoles' 'ittle tails. 

'1st as de sun was 'bout to set, 
We'd tink dat Pa an' Ma would fret, 
An' den we'd scamper o'er de grass, 
'1st run for home, Oh! so fast. 



52 



Me and My Sister 

An' Pa, he'd say: "Come in de room, 
A punishin' you must have soon." 
An' den we'd cry an' beg an' say: 
"We never meaned to run'd away." 



S3 



The Parade 

My Pa, he's a express man 
An' has a scenery wagon; 
He hauls jist all he can 
On the big theatre wagon. 

Tuther day the horses scared, 

An' a lot of stuff failed off, 
An' a big paper elephant tared 

An' broke his trunk clean off- 
Then the man made Pa pay — 

Him a lot of m.oney, 
An' Pa hauled it all away 

An' says: "You may have it, sonney." 

He piled it in our hay-mow, 

An' I says to Billie Brown: 
"Let's put it on our old cow 

An' parade all over town." 



SS 



The Parade 

Grandpa helped us fix the trunk, 
An' patched the big house-saddle 

An' said it didn't look like junk 
But was a elephant model. 

Billy's Pa gave him some goats. 
An' a wagon made of wood, 

An' Pa, he had some fishin' boats 
With the ends cut off, looked good. 

Grandpa took one an' helped us make 
A band wagon, — 'bout so high — 

An' some old theatre-stuff he take 
An' 'round it nail and tie. 

An' then we sit our phonograph 

Down in the wagon bed. 
Then Granpa, he jist laugh 

When Billic Brown, he said: 

"Fll git some tin play-horns. 
An' fifes, an' a tenor drum, 

Then folks will think our big horns 
Is where the noise comes frum." 

Sister Lou will the elephant ride, 
Up in the big house-saddle, 

S6 



The Parade 

An' then she'll be a Princess bride, 
With me in my pony's saddle. 

Preacher Jones thinks he's so smart, 
An' Miss Jones aint much better, 

When our parade was 'bout to start, 
They both jist laugh an' titter. 

I says: "Keep your horse a goin' 
When our parade starts out, 

You'll see things worth knowin' 
An' you'd better both watch out." 

Then the band in the wagon climbed 
With Lula on the elephant mounted, 

An' the phonograph music chimed 
As the goats to the wagon started. 

For tights I wore Ma's stockings, 
An' rode our old gray horse, 

An' sister's waist an' sash things, 

At the head of the parade, of course. 

Right ahead of us in the road. 
Was Preacher Jones comin' back. 

I hollered: "Git out of the road, 
The parade's got the wagon track." 

57 



The Parade 

Then of all the plungin' an' rarin', 
The preacher's horse was the worst, 

He run in the fence a tarin' 
An' tore it down, — almost. 

We jist kept on goin' 

An' giggled some ourselves 
'Cause our parade was movin' 

An' they couldn't help theirselves. 

An' a policeman then came runnin' 

An' says: "What do you children mean 

Don't you see the horses runnin' 

An' the driver's most scared green?" 

Then Lula's Ma came rushin' 
An' says: "Give me my child" 

An' her face was all a blushin' 
An' her eyes, they looked so wild. 

An' the poUceman says: "You'd better 

Go hikin' right back home 
An' go a whole lot faster 

Than' you came away from home!" 



S9 



Our New Baby 



A new baby's corned to our house, an' I'se mad 

as I kin be, 
We didn't need it nohow, dat's why I'se mad, 

you see; 
We'se dot more babies now dan all de folks I 

knows, 
An' Pa does heaps of kickin,' 'cause we eats 

so much an' grows. 

Dis mornin' as de doctor was a comin' in de 

gate, 
1 dist thought dat I'd stop him, 'fore it was 

too late; 
An' I says: "Dear Doctor, for dis little baby's 

sake, 
Don't you tink you'd better take it to some 

udder folkses sate? 



60 



Our New Baby 

'"Cause we's dot ten chilern to our house, an' 

eatin's mighty pore, 
An' de whole gang gets a Hckin' now for yellin' 

out for more. 
An' Pa, he's awful cross when he sees us in 

de street. 
An' he tinks how many shoes it takes to cover 

all our feet. 

"If some rich folks had dis baby, they'd mighty 

neah go craz}^, 
An' you know Pa's failin' is, he's awful, awful 

lazy; 
An' Ma, she makes me sorry, when de young uns 

is a squallin'. 
For she's dot 'nough to do, 'thout botherin' 

with der bawlin'." 

But I wasn't so sorry after all, when I saw de 

little creature, 
'Tause it looks jist 'zactly as I do, jist every 

doggone feature. 
An' Pa an' Ma had a talk last night, an' Pa 

said he'd do better; 
An' what you tink. Pa's dot a job, for jist 

now comed a letter. 

6i 



Our New Baby 

Sayin' he could start right in to work, an' 

he'll start tomorrow, maybe. 
So you see we's dot all kinds of luck on account 

of dat new baby. 
An' if Pa's job turns out all right, when we 

goes out for an airin', 
I 'spect we'll have a nice new cab that'll set 

de neighbors starin'. 



62 



Me and Billie and Uncle 'Josh 

If the sun didn't shine in this here clime, 

We kids wouldn't have a very good time. 
Say Billie ! I wonder what's the reason why 

Everything 'cept owls, watch the sun go by; 
The rooster crows and the birds all fuss, 

And animals too start raisin' a muss, 
Wheels start movin', all things are growin', 

Jist 'cause the sun her light is showin'. 

And the moon, she kinda hides her face 

When the sun comes up and takes her place, 
And looks sorter pale and shame-faced too, 

Jist like she didn't know what to do, 
'Cause the sun's the boss of the whole affair, 

And the stars and the earth aint anywhere, 
But jist stand around, a loafin'-like, 

'Till the sun comes up and makes 'em hike. 

63 



Me and Billie and Uncle Josh 

I'll tell you, Billie, what we can do, 

We'll jist ask our colored man, too, 
'Cause he sometimes preaches and sings. 

And knows more'n most folks 'bout sich things. 
For I'se goin' to tell you right now, kid. 

Old Uncle Josh has some big things did. 
He's hoe'n' taters in the garden now 

And jist after dinner, he's goin' to plow. 

I 'spect we'd better not ask him yet, 

'Till the old man has his dinner et. 
And then he'll be a talkin' right, 

When he sits down with his pipe to light. 
Now here he comes a limpin' along, 

Hummin' the tune of an old-time song. 
Don't you think that old man can't sing, 

And jist make an old banjo ring. 

Now, Uncle Josh, if you've finished that stew, 

Jist sit down here and tell us a few, 
'Cause Billie and me were awhile ago talkin', 

As you were comin' from the garden walkin'; 
And Billie and me was a wonderin' why 

That jist every day the sun goes b}^; 
The moon and the stars are afraid of it. 

And when it comes out, away they git. 

65 



Me and Billie and Uncle Josh 

"Don't you-all know the sun's got wheels 

A whole lot bigger'n your grandpa's fields, 
And a fiery flame comes out of its mouth, 

Then the stars and the moon run north and south; 
If they didn't, he'd jist lick 'em up. 

And swaller 'em down with one big sup; 
And all the time in a great big hole, 

A big colored man keeps shovelin' coal." 

But, Uncle Josh, if the sun has wheels. 

What is it turns 'em, like street-car wheels? 
"Didn't I done tol' }'OU that a hired man 

Was a shovelin' coal, fast as he can?" 
What kinda track does the wheels run on 

And where's the ties that the rails lay on? 
"There aint no ties nor rails at all, 

The sun's so hot, it jist can't fall." 

"The sun's the first thing the Good Lord made. 

And then he lay'd down in a big tree's shade." 
But say! Uncle Josh, we wouldn't mind knowin' 

Who made the tree, and where was it growin'. 
"You-all is the most audacious childern. 

And such impurtance is most bewildern; 
You'd better be careful what you-all's sayin', 

And be seekin' the Lord, and do more prayin'." 

66 



We All Made Up 

When we all went, so long ago, to the old mill 

a fishing, 
We did not eat, nor did we sleep, we were so 

busy wishing. 
For the sun, once more to come, through the 

window creeping; 
And when we heard old Pony call, we got out of 

bed a leaping, 
And called real loud to our dear Ma, to please 

put up our dinner; 
And Pony needed feeding, too, 'cause we just 

had heard her whinner; 
And when we had our breakfast eat, and dug a 

can of bait. 
We hustled for old Pony so we wouldn't be too 

late; 
And soon we were a trotting, out through the 

barn-yard gate. 



^3i:^E2S?^ 




We All Made Up 

Then Willie hollered: "Hold on, Pa, you've done 

forgot the bait," 
Then Pa, he gets so awful mad and says he just 

won't wait 
'Cause something always happens and we get 

started late. 

Then Willie in the dust runs home to fetch along 

the bait. 
And all a sudden stumps his toe, and nearly 

breaks his pate. 
And when we had him all patched up, and started 

down the road, 
We hadn't gone a mile, I know, 'till Mary's 

hat off blowed; 
And then I never saw the like, 'cause Pa, he 

got so mad. 
And I felt kinda sorry then, 'cause Ma, she 

looked so sad. 
And Pa, he licked old Pony, and swored a bad 

word too. 
But Pony didn't need it, and we all loved her 

too. 
And it wasn't more'n a minute, 'till Pa, he 

looked around. 



69 



We All Made Up 

And there was our old Towser, sneakin' along 

the ground; 
Then Pa, he hollered loud, and gave him an 

awful scolding. 
And Towser, he just trotted off, and his ears 

he seemed upfolding. 
Then Pa, he pounded pony and we started down 

the road, 
And Towser turned around once more and after 

us he go'd. 
I says: "There aint no use of scolding, Pa, 

old Towser's surely coming, 
And he'll be along w4th us, a walking or a 

running." 
And when at last we reached the mill, right 

there beneath the wagon, 
W as Towser's friendly, smiling face, and his 

tail was still "a-wagon." 
And Pa and Ma were fishing soon, and Pa, he 

got a bite, 
And then he laughed and felt so good, we kids 

slipped out of sight. 
We waded in the river, 'way up above our 

knees 
And climbed upon the branches of over-hanging 

trees. 

71 



We All Made Up 



And soon we heard a splutter and a childish 

screeching yell, 
For little sister Mary, off of a limb had fell. 
Then Towser ran a barking, down to the folks 

to tell, 
And Pa and Ala came running to where we were, 

pell-mell. 
Then Pa, within a twinkle, did in the river 

dive 
And bring from out the water, little Mary still 

alive. 
And when back home we traveled, when the 

evening sun had set, 
We had with us old Towser, but not in the road, 

you bet, 
But perched upon the wagon seat, along with 

sister Mary, 
And we were singing Sunday songs, light-hearted 

and merry. 




Darling Little Sweetheart 

Oh! My little sweetheart, 

Oh! My little dear, 
Come and tell me some things 

That I like to hear. 
All about the turkey-hens 

All about the gobblers 
All about the quackin' ducks 

And their little wabblers. 

All about a big black bear 

That climbed and climbed so high, 
And its little baby bear — 

That couldn't climb so high. 
Tell me about your baby cab 

And your big doll baby, 
Was she really good to-day 

And a perfect little lady? 



73 



Darling Little Sweetheart 

"When Susie Dav}' called to-day 

An' brought along her baby 
M}^ dolly, she jist acted bad — 

An' I punished the young lady. 
I put her in her dolly house 

An' tucked her up in bed 
An' told her not to say a word 

Or even raise her head. 

"Then we went playin' in the yard 

An' our old turkey gobbler 
Jist scraped his wings along the ground 

An' nen he gobbled louder. 
Nen the ducks came wabblin' out — 

Jist one behind the other 
An' the little staggerin' ducks 

Came taggin' with their mother. 

"Nen our big old gander goose 

Came a hissin' an' a floppin' 
An' we jist run so fast 

Right in the house a hoppin'. 
Nen I was kinda sorry too, 

'Bout punishin' baby doll 
An' I jist tooked her up — 

An' cried, an' that's all." 

75 



Why Santa Came to Our House 

Santa's reindeer with their rattling hoofs, 

Come scampering over the house-top roofs, 
And the dear old man, when he come to ours, 

Said: "This is the place for toys and flowers. 
And climbed right out of his big sleigh 

And says: "Til show these folks the way 
To fix a Christmas tree so fine 

It will look so pretty and glitter and shine. 
'Cause I got a letter from a little girl, 

With flaxen hair and a twisted curl. 
Saying, I needn't have the leastest fear 

'Bout leaving Christmas presents here, 
'Cause she was good and loved her Ma 

And was nice to brother and minded Pa. 
A sled for brother would make her glad — 

Sometimes he's naughty, but not real bad — 
And Baby's the bestest, sweetest thing, 

I know you'll her some nice things bring. 

76 



Why Santa Come to Our House 

When my Ma works and is tired, too, 
I minds the baby and helps her do 

All the work in our big house 

And keeps as quiet as a little mouse.' 



77 



A Lette?^ to Santa Claus 

Santa Claus! Santa Claus! Where have you been 
Rambling and roving since winter set in? 
Where did you go last summer so warm? 
Your furs and great coat are only for storm. 

Does Christmas come in the northern clime? 
Your sleighbells ring with a musical chime? 
And little reindeer w^ith a great big sleigh 
Haul all of the toys that big folks say? 

Are you out all night with the darling deer 
Without feeli^ng afraid and a little bit queer? 
And now, old Santa, please tell us the truth — 
Do you really ride over the top of the roof? 

Have Papa and Mamma a true story told, 
When your wonderful life to us they unfold? 
Now, Santa, I'll tell you a thing or two 
That all of us children should like vou to do. 



7^ 



A Letter to Santa Claus 

Bring baby some toys of wooden stuff, 
And sister Mary a brand-new muff; 
I'd like a doll with long flaxen hair, 
Instead of some foolish old stuff to wear. 

Tommy, he's just making a bluff", 
And doesn't need more'n half that stuff". 
He's written for so many things to you 
And really expects to get but few. 

If he gets the sled and tenor drum 

Ma will be so cross and awful grum. 

And, gee! but Pa will raise a muss 

When Tom and his drum make all that fuss. 

I think girls are nicer than boys, 
And ought to have a heap more toys; 
And Tom's been bad and used naughty talk, 
And plays with mean kids on our front walk. 

If you will these nice things bring, 
I'll be good and happy as anything; 
And I'll mind Pa, and be kind to Ma, 
And as nice a girl as you ever saw. 



79 



An Expert Driver 

Why be a baby? 

I ought to be a man, 
I know just as much maybe 

As most big folks can, 
An' sister Mary said to me: 

"You're just a little man," 
An' I reckon I can see 

I'se most ole as sister Ann. 

I can ride de ole sorrel horse. 

An' hitch him up an' drive. 
Lots of big folks do it worse. 

When my Ma is by my side. 
Don't see why they calls me child 

When I rides an' drives so well, 
An' our ole horse is awful wild, 

I hear de ole folks tell. 



80 



An Expert Driver 

All de boys look up at me 

When we go out ridin', 
An' all time try to see 

If it's Ma or me drivin', 
I don't even look around 

But drives right straight ahead, 
For them kids playin' on de ground 

Had better be home in bed. 

Alary Murphy, she's so smart, 

Drivin' her ole pony 
To her old yellow cart 

An' calls de ole thing Roney. 
Her Ma's stuck up proud 

When Mary drives along. 
An' talks so awful loud 

When I know she's drivin' wrong. 

I don't need a pony, 

'Cause I can drive a horse, 
An' Pa give lots of money 

For our big sorrel horse. 
An' I'd be 'shamed really 

To drive a pony now. 
For I'se big enough nearly 

To show them kids how. 



The Fly and Mosquito 

Say, Grandpa, please tell me why 
As you say the thus and so 
Why we have the old house-fly? 
For I should surely like to know. 
"I'll tell you, son, the thus and soes, 
They stand day-watch for mosquitoes." 

I wonder why they never strike ? 
They're up at early dawn each day. 
And working's what they surely like, 
They never take the time to play. 
"That's because you should not sleep 
That in the light they o'er you creep." 

Mosquitoes hum and sigh and sing, 
While all night long their voices ring, 
And their chewing, smarting sting, 



82 



The Fly and Mosquito 

I think a most unpleasant thing. 

"In sleep you would the night have wasted 

If they had not of you have tasted." 

Dear Grandpa, I'd like to know 
Why they always are at work 
And all night long are on the go 
And never stop to loaf or shirk? 
"That, my son, is an object lesson 
Honest toil is a worldly blessing." 



«3 



The Phonograph 

Phonographs are funny things — 
Have wheels and springs and other things- 
They can laugh and sing and talk, 
But the tarnal things won't ever walk. 

Our parrot, he can sing and talk, 
And makes a stagger at a walk. 
He must have wheels within his head — 
The giggling, silly things he's said. 

Ma can laugh and talk and sing. 
And make more noise than anything. 
The way she runs and gads about 
Her springs will surely all wear out. 

Pa says Sister makes him tired 
For after all the teachers, hired, 
The phonograph's the only one 
From whose singing he don't run. 



84 



The Phonograph 

We boys holler, yell and laugh 
And imitate the phonograph; 
But if we think that Pa's about 
You can bet we all look out. 

When we give a great big show, 
The phonograph's our band, you know. 
The music comes in lovely strains 
As the machine blows out its brains. 

And now I surely hope and pray 
Some good man will come this way 
With a machine that will walk 
And flv around as well as talk. 



/ Really Meant It — When I Wrote It 

Here's to the prettiest girl in the world, 
With eyes of brown and hair most curled, 
Her stately carriage is that of a queen, 
Such form and figure is seldom seen. 
When on her lips I plant a kiss, 
I taste the joy of rapturous bliss, 
When she tips the glass of sparkling wine, 
Her radiant beauty does on me shine, 
I drink the effervescence of her smiles 
And live in hope of the afterwhiles. 



86 




/ '#• I 



To—fl Wont Tell Who) 

In a motor car alone with thee, 

A drive in the evening shade, 
To dine and chat 'neath the garden tree, 

As the sun sinks o'er the glade. 
A bird and a few of your clever rimes 

And a sparkling iced one too, 
While your silvery voice, melodiously chimes 

And pierces my heart through and through. 



87 



An Accepted Invitation 

Could thou but lend to me an hour 
To dine 'neath many a leaf and flower, 
I'd drink the sparkle of thy evening muse 
And exchange with thee, our different views 
While thy rhythmic laughter, and thy radiant smiles 
Are the soul of sweet melodv, all the whiles. 



Were I ''-Passed Uf' 

Had you my invitation not accepted 

Empty would the wine glass stand, 
And dainty viands go untasted 

And ne'er defiled by other hand. 
Discordant would the music sound 

Were your smiling face not here, 
While laughing levity all around 

Blends with tones of joy and cheer. 



89 



Christmas Card 

May your tree of life on Christmas day 
Be filled with happiness in a christian way, 
And your troubles and sorrows be but few 
And fade away as the morning dew. 

May your days be many and filled with peace 
Is the wish of your loving, affectionate niece. 



90 



Sent with a Christmas Veil 

I send this, not thy Christmas smiles to hide, 
Nor may'st it veil thy Christmas joy and pride 
I trust it will thy stately figure grace 
And keep the sunbeams off thy face. 



91 



Holy Me a?td Sinner Thou 

They who say I'm holier than thou, 
Will bear much watching by thee, I vow 
And if their deeds they'd now expose, 
They'd lower much their upturned nose. 



92 



Birthday 

This is the day for a sip of wine, 

And this^is the day for a jolly good time. 

Oh! wouldn'tfit be just sublime 

If on this day I'd call ye mine? 



9Z 



The Critic 

The critic with an egotistic pose, 

So prone to slur a neighbor, 
Has nothing done, the Good Lord knows, 

The family name to favor. 



94 



Real Love 

The sun may rise, 
The sun may set, 

The moon shine bright and set, 
But stars still dot the firmament. 

But yet, Oh ! yet 
Real love can't set, 

But brighter, brighter get, 

A fixed star in life's firmament. 



95 



My Choice 

'Pon me word 'twixt beer and water, 
I'd choose the beer though I may totter, 
And when it comes to wine or grog, 
I choose the wine to chase the grog. 



96 



Truth 

If at all times ye tell the truth, 
In Heaven should you abide forsooth. 
But while upon this earthly sphere, 
A cross you'll carry while you're here. 
And if your neighbors could but do it, 
They sure would nail ye fast onto it. 



97 



To my Friend^ George B, Gaston 

My dear friend of the long ago 
Of our good times we only know. 

Might we reverse the day and go 
Back to the dear old long ago. 

Journeying backward to and fro, 
Hither and thither as on we go. 

Oh! ye last milestone or so, 
Lead us back to the long ago. 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 



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